mother said, hesitatingly, "Doug, I hate to see you dancing so much with Inez."
"What harm was there in it?"
"I don't know that I can tell you, Doug. When I was a girl, going to the log schoolhouse, we girls never thought of touching whiskey. Our mothers would have killed us if we had."
"The world do move!" grunted Douglas.
"I don't believe it's the world. Not from the books I read. I think it's just Lost Chief. The old folks in my day had real influence in the valley. There were many like Grandma Brown. But now! Why, your father will never be the good influence his father was, and I'd never be like Grandma. I don't know why."
"You can't even train your own daughter," said Douglas with entire frankness.
"Can the other mothers?" asked Mary resentfully. "What can I do when the other mothers are so easy?"
"It ain't exactly easy." Douglas spoke thoughtfully. "The Lord knows, all the kids in Lost Chief work hard enough and get walloped enough."
Mary sighed deeply. Douglas watched her face, so like Judith's but bearing tragic lines it would have broken his heart to see around Judith's young lips. With unwonted gentleness he leaned over to put his hand on Mary's while he smiled at her half sadly.
"Poor Mother! We are an ornery lot! But you are as good as gold, and Jude and I both know it!"
Quick tears stung Mary's gray eyes. She lifted his hand to her cheek for a moment, then, as he drew it away, she tried to return his smile. But nothing more was said until they reached home.
Just as they entered the living-room, Judith rushed in.
